An Invitation To Murder Read online

  He stopped and turned to face her. “Katherine, at last! I’ve been thinking.”

  She met him beneath the oak’s outspread branches and offered a slim smile. “You’ve been wearing the ground thin, is what you’ve been doing.”

  The shadows deepened in the grooves around his mouth. “Please tell me you’re close to solving the case. It worries me to be meeting you late at night, adjacent to the garden.”

  “Are you afraid you’re pretty enough to turn the murderer’s head?”

  Lyle blinked at her, for a moment not seeming to comprehend the implication. His scowl deepened as he narrowed his eyes. “My concern is not for myself—it’s for you! I come armed. You refuse to see the danger in the situation.”

  Her mind flashed back to her discomfort that morning with Mr. Greaves. Although it had been daylight and she’d thought herself perfectly safe, for a moment she wondered if perhaps she ought not to sit alone in the garden again. The next time, she might be found by someone with more sinister a motive.

  Softly, Katherine assured her friend, “I very much see the danger, but I cannot let it deter me. Besides, I am not young or blond, so I don’t fit the pattern if the killer is after the same type.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, silent. When she said nothing more, he asked, “What have you found?”

  She sighed. “What I have lost is a better question.” She detailed her discovery of Miss Smythe’s diary beneath Lord Mowbry’s pillow. Given Lyle’s reticence toward her presence in the garden, she half-expected a reprimand upon informing him that she had searched a man’s room alone. However, her friend took the information in stride, as if such behavior were commonplace. Perhaps, to one of Sir John’s men, it was.

  As he listened to the information she’d gleaned by thumbing through the pages, he began to pace. He continued to pace for several minutes after she ceased to speak. Katherine fiddled with her reticule as she waited for his mind to return to the present.

  He stopped and faced her. “Why would this Miss Burwick steal the diary? Did she know whose it was?”

  “If not, she will upon reading it.”

  “How did she even know you had it?”

  “I fear she might have seen me… um… acquire it.”

  Lyle frowned. “It can’t benefit her at all—”

  A scream split the air, quickly stifled. Katherine and Lyle exchanged a glance, Katherine’s heart pounding.

  "Halt!" Lyle yelled in the direction of the scream, and in unspoken agreement, they bolted for the garden.

  Katherine stumbled over her hem but gathered it in her fists and continued.

  Gravel crunched ahead.

  Someone was fleeing!

  She and Lyle pursued them, he a touch faster than she.

  She kept on his coattails, hoping he ran in the right direction.

  As he raced along, he dug in his pocket to remove his pistol, which he fumbled to load. They didn’t have a moment to spare.

  They stampeded into the grotto, stray branches and pebbles crackling beneath their feet.

  This sodding grotto, with its thick vines obscuring most of the light! Ahead, a figure turned the corner too quickly to identify who it was, down another path and out of sight. Lyle hastened his step, in hot pursuit of the shadow.

  When Katherine followed on his heels, she stumbled over something large and warm. As she fell to her knees, the wind knocked out of her, her hand brushed against skin. Fingers. Warm fingers.

  “We have a body!” The words emerged from her ragged throat. She tried again, louder, and added, “Bring a lantern.”

  Did Lyle hear? She held her breath, half-expecting to hear a gunshot and wondering whether it would come from his pistol or if the murderer carried one as well. Over the bushes, a light bobbed and weaved. She let out a breath and turned to examine the corpse, touching gingerly so as to disturb as little as possible.

  No. Not a corpse.

  The woman’s breathing was shallow, but her chest indeed rose and fell. As the light drew closer, enough filtered through, near enough to illuminate her face.

  Miss Young.

  Despite the confirmations of her suspicions that this young woman would be next, Katherine’s stomach plummeted. She should have stayed with the gathering to keep an eye on her.

  The ribbon around Miss Young’s neck—pink, Katherine discovered as Lyle neared—was loose around her throat. The murderer had dropped it and his victim rather than tie off the ribbon, which might have been the only thing that kept Miss Young alive. Gingerly, trying not to disturb the evidence, Katherine drew it away from the young woman’s skin. She laid it next to her shoulder, to be properly handled later.

  Lyle halted at Miss Young’s feet. One of her slippers had been flung from her foot. It rested at the base of the bench.

  “I’m sorry, Katherine.” Lyle’s voice was thick with remorse. If they’d solved the matter more quickly…

  She blinked away tears. Her voice hushed, she murmured, “She’s still alive.”

  Lyle bent to nestle the lantern against the bench. “She is?”

  Katherine nodded. “We were quick enough for that.”

  A commanding voice, that of the hostess, emanated from the manse. She ordered the ladies to remain inside; the men, she insisted would search the garden in pairs. Katherine had wondered if anyone had heard. It seemed the gathering had, indeed.

  To Lyle, she said, “Hurry back to the inn and fetch the forensic supplies you brought with you.” With the raise of one eyebrow, she added, “I know you brought something.”

  A slim smile ghosted over her friend’s lips, soon overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation. “You know me well. What will you do?”

  “I’ll preserve the scene as well I can and search her body for clues before it’s moved. With Northbrook’s permission, I’ll send for your official help with this, so he won’t grow suspicious at your sudden presence. Harriet will be by shortly with the carriage.”

  He nodded and took a step past her, toward the oak. He paused. “I’ll remain close until the others reach you. I don’t want you to come to any harm in case the murderer returns to finish what they started.”

  “Thank you.”

  He melted away into the shadows.

  Katherine raised her voice. “In the grotto! Miss Young has been hurt!” As the shouts echoed around the garden while the men coordinated their locations, she checked to make certain that Miss Young was still breathing. She did, but when Katherine lightly patted on her cheek, she didn’t rouse. Katherine stood and shook out her skirts.

  Thankfully, Lord Northbrook was among the first to reach her. Captain Wayland followed on his heels, his expression grim as he met Katherine’s gaze.

  After holding his eyes for a moment, she returned her attention to the host. Stepping squarely between the men and the body, she said, “My lord, may I have a word?”

  When Northbrook nodded, Wayland managed to find his way into the path of the other men. Katherine scanned their faces for any signs that they might have been involved. Most looked concerned or horrified—Lord Mowbry looked ashen. Thankfully, no one tried to bully their way into learning more. The one man who tried—the Duke of Somerset—earned a low word from Wayland.

  Katherine beckoned Northbrook forward. The two of them stepped to the bench, to a place she hoped would be out of earshot of the others. When he neared her, she kept her voice low.

  “Miss Young is still alive.”

  Relief crossed Northbrook’s face. “Thank heavens. I’ll send for the physician at once.”

  She touched him on the arm as he began to turn away. “Someone among us has inflicted this harm. I mean to discover who so this doesn’t happen again. Can I count on your cooperation?”

  Northbrook frowned. He hesitated a moment as he looked between Katherine and Miss Young, who was still unconscious, then asked, “What would you have me do?”

  Katherine straightened her shoulders. “Contain every guest in the parlor and e
very servant elsewhere. They will need to be questioned, in case they know anything that can help me identify the person responsible. I have a friend with the Bow Street Runners who can be here within the hour if you’ll let me send my abigail to fetch him.”

  The crease between the earl’s eyebrows deepened. “A Runner?”

  “I know their reputation, but he is good at what he does. And he solves crimes like this one. Can I send for him? We’ll need everyone contained for questioning, and so we can search the garden for evidence.”

  Northbrook released a breath. “I’ll give it the evening, but no longer. The guests will be up in arms as it is to be thus confined.”

  “It will be for their safety, as well.”

  The tension in his face dissipated somewhat. “I’ll carry her up to her room.”

  “It might be best if you arranged for the guests to remain in the parlor and called for a physician first. I’d like to examine her before we chance moving her. She didn’t stir when I tried to rouse her.”

  The earl looked worried as he stepped back. “I’ll send a footman for the physician posthaste.”

  When he turned to herd the group away from the scene, Wayland balked. “I’ll remain to render my assistance in any way I can.”

  Katherine squared her shoulders. “If you’d like to assist me, Captain, please find my maid. Tell her to take the carriage and fetch Lyle. She’ll know where to find him.”

  For a moment, she thought him likely to refuse. However, Northbrook angled himself between them, barring the taller man from the scene of the crime. Wayland solemnly held Katherine’s gaze. After a pause, he said, “Very well. I’ll see to it at once.”

  She released a breath as he turned away. Although she was under no illusion that he would let the scene go unexamined for long, she had the privacy to search it first. And she’d best be quick, in case she found something pivotal to solving the murders.

  Leaving Miss Young prone upon the ground and wearing only one shoe seemed cruel. However, if the other slipper held some sort of clue, she couldn’t return it to the young woman’s foot. She stripped her of the other one instead and laid it near the lantern. Then, after examining the state of Miss Young’s stocking-clad ankles, she rearranged the woman’s skirt to better cover her.

  If Northbrook hadn’t agreed to take the guests in hand, the grotto might have been crowded with people who could taint—or worse, eradicate—the evidence. Thankfully, she had some time to examine the walkway and surrounding area before it was disturbed. This was the advantage her father hadn’t had. The murderer had struck again, and this time, he must have made a mistake. Katherine set her mind to finding that mistake and exploiting it in her favor.

  Due to the recent rain, there was more than one set of boot prints to be found in the area. Carrying the lantern in one hand, she laid out her knotted string in the other. At least one of the prints matched. Another—perhaps Lord Northbrook’s or Mr. Greaves’s, for both had been in the grotto within the past day—did not match her string. She tucked it back into her reticule and continued her search.

  She didn’t care for Miss Young’s shallow breathing or pallor. Gingerly, Katherine probed her neck, hoping to find nothing broken. Although she was no physician, she believed Miss Young’s windpipe and spine to be intact.

  The young woman did not stir. Her eyelashes didn’t so much as flutter when Katherine waved a vial of smelling salts beneath her nose. She’d always thought that noxious scent could wake the dead. Not Miss Young, however. Could her life be in jeopardy?

  Leave that announcement for the physician. Since medicine wasn’t her trade, she could only focus on that which she knew, solving crime. She examined Miss Young’s dress carefully, without disturbing her, searching for a stray hair or a mark left by her attacker. Unfortunately, she found nothing.

  She had barely begun her search when she heard the crunch of boots on gravel. Had Lyle returned so soon? She glanced up.

  Wayland stepped into the grotto. Her glare seemed to have no effect on him.

  “Shouldn’t you be in the parlor with the other guests?”

  He paused at the edge of the light. If nothing else, he seemed well aware of the danger of disturbing the scene. He flexed his hands, loose at his sides, as he surveyed the area with a shrewd look. “It seems to me that you might benefit from my assistance.”

  “You’ve already offered. I asked—”

  “Your maid has already departed. She didn’t seem keen to take my instructions until I told her what had happened.”

  “Imagine that.”

  Was it her imagination, or did Wayland smirk? Perhaps the light of the lantern played tricks on her. “I’m skilled at what I do, Lady Katherine. Allow me to aid in your search. It’ll go quicker.”

  “I have an aide,” she told him matter-of-factly.

  “Yes. Lyle, was it? Curious, that you have a friend so close able to render assistance. One might almost think you planned it that way.”

  “A happy coincidence.”

  Wayland took a cautious step forward and crossed his arms. “It’ll be some time before your friend arrives. Take advantage of my presence, lest the weather turn inclement.”

  Although Katherine wanted to deny that any such thing would happen, unfortunately she lived in England. The rain could fall at the drop of a pin. Clenching her teeth, she nodded curtly. “Very well. I’m having trouble with Miss Young’s dress. I’m afraid she might be grievously hurt, but until the physician arrives, I’m afraid to move her.”

  He stepped closer, choosing carefully where he placed his feet. “Allow me. I saw my share of injuries in the war.”

  Anxious, Katherine stepped back. “Mind the ribbon.”

  He frowned as he took her place, kneeling next to the young woman. “What do you hope to learn from the ribbon? It looks the same as the others.”

  Had he somehow managed to examine the other ribbons? Katherine didn’t ask, nor did she disclose her secrets. “It is integral to the investigation. Don’t touch it.”

  Wayland shrugged and examined Miss Young’s body. He leaned over her to listen to her breath, feathered the tips of his fingers over her neck and the back of her head, and at last squatted on his heels with a sigh. “I don’t believe she’s broken anything, including her skull, but she may have been devoid of air for too long. There might be no saving her.”

  “That’s not for you to decide,” Katherine snapped. “Do you think it’s safe to move her? I haven’t had the chance to check the back of her dress and head for clues.”

  “I don’t see why not.” With a shrug, he gently slipped his arm to cradle Miss Young’s head. He positioned his other arm beneath her knees and lifted her in a smooth movement. “Examine her quickly, and I’ll lay her on the bench until the physician arrives.”

  Katherine did as Wayland requested, but she didn’t notice anything remarkable, much to her consternation. She and Wayland left Miss Young’s body on the bench to search the rest of the grotto once more.

  Katherine was glad when the physician finally came. Wayland stepped in, offering to carry Miss Young indoors in order to keep the physician or Lord Northbrook from disturbing the scene.

  After a quick word from the host, during which he assured her that no one had departed the premises, she advised him to station a servant he trusted with Miss Young, lest another ill befall her. Every guest and servant was accounted for and awaiting her questions, but they couldn’t be too cautious. She couldn’t interview them right away, for she refused to leave before Lyle arrived.

  Fortunately, he did so shortly after Northbrook departed. “This feels like a haunted manor,” he grumbled under his breath. “Nary a servant in the stables to help unhitch the carriage. Harriet and I managed, with some trouble.”

  “That’s my fault,” Katherine said. “I had Lord Northbrook gather everyone in one place to be questioned.”

  “That will make our jobs easier. Someone might have seen something suspicious.”

/>   So she hoped.

  Lyle hefted what looked to be a heavy bag. He set it down at the mouth of the grotto. “What have you found?”

  “Little of import, aside from the ribbon. Did you bring that new dye you were working on?”

  With a twinkle in his eye, Lyle smiled. “I have, and I believe I’ve perfected it enough to render my assistance in this case. If the murderer left his fingerprint on the fabric, little enough time has passed that the dye should be able to settle into the residue. Shall we give it a go?”

  Katherine nodded. She stood back while Lyle removed a small vial of dye from his case. Frowning and with his eyebrows knit together, he sprinkled some of the dye over the length of the ribbon. He held out his hand. “Give the lantern here.”

  She did as he asked.

  As he passed the light over the pink fabric, he mused absentmindedly. “Now, the patterns in the imprint of a finger are complex. There must be a way to isolate the pattern better than studying two samples at length under a magnifying glass, but I admit I haven’t yet been able to devise such a way. This might prove useless, after all.”

  A lump formed in Katherine’s throat. “It has to yield something.” For my own conscience, if nothing else. If Miss Young’s tragic altercation didn’t help them solve the pink-ribbon murders, then the poor woman would have suffered for nothing.

  Her friend pointed at the edge of the ribbon, where a distinct, darker print now formed. “It has. In fact, I might not need to examine samples so closely. Do you see that line?” A small dash interrupted the pattern. A scar, perhaps. “That mark is unique and will make it easier for us to identify the person responsible. Once we have some evidence, we can take fingerprints from the suspects. We’ll get him, Katherine.”

  The breath left her lungs in a rush as she nodded. “Thank you.” He couldn’t know how much she meant those words. “Would you mind going over the grotto with me, using some of your inventions? It might yield something I’ve missed.”